


grey clouds, white sky

by elfloversanonymous (asexuelf)



Series: Femdom Pussy Indulgence [5]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Arranged Marriage, BDSM, Cultural BDSM AU, Dalish Elves, Dom Merrill (Dragon Age), Elf/Elf Relationship(s), F/M, Femdom, Fog Warriors, Getting Together, Marethari's F- Parenting Skills, Minor Original Character(s), Nonbinary Original Character, Original Female Character - Freeform, Past Abuse, Sub Fenris (Dragon Age), soft dom, this is so niche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/elfloversanonymous
Summary: In an AU where BDSM is the cultural norm, Merrill is a Dom that's eagerly (and anxiously) waiting to meet her perfect match.





	grey clouds, white sky

**Author's Note:**

> i apparently wrote this in one night like a mad lad a month ago and then promptly forgot about it. found it, fixed it up a bit, and now i think it's ready to post! that said, fenris is probably a bit out of character, but this is an au where he's lived among the fog warriors for quite some years and has done a lot of his healing off-screen so.... take from that what you will!
> 
> the audience for this is EXTREMELY niche, but i hope you enjoy it! <3

Merrill is nervous.

She can admit that to herself, even if she'd shown the Keeper a brave face. Not that Marethari had likely believed it; it doesn't take a trained eye to see the way Merrill's hands shake or the way her restless gaze gravitates to the ground. Marethari's eyes  _ are _ trained, however, especially when it comes to reading Merrill.

Marethari hadn't mentioned it, luckily. Just asked quietly if she was ready, if she was eager to face her new submissive. And Merrill hadn't lied when she'd said yes.

It's strange to think that in just a few minutes, she'll be meeting him. They say he comes from the north - not just north of Ferelden, but the far northern reaches of Thedas, where elves are bought and sold. He was born and raised in Tevinter, the heart of what was once the elvhen homeland, and escaped a cruel Magister to live among the Fog Warriors, his mother's people. He lived with them for many years before finally telling his clanmates he was ready for a Dominant.

It's strange to think she knows so much about him and yet so very little. She's made no complaint, however, because she knows she's lucky to know anything at all. As is the custom, he currently knows much less. This is to strengthen a submissive's trust, so says tradition. The Dalish keep information of their Dominant away from the submissives so they will trust that their clan has made a good choice for them - and thus, put more faith in their Dominant (or Dominants).

She wishes he were allowed more information, but more than that, Merrill hopes her submissive won't be disappointed when he does know her. She's just so  _ soft _ for a Dom. They've not even met yet and all she wants to do is pamper him and shower him with all manner of things. Whatever he could ever ask for. She wants discipline, sure, and obedience, whatever those things will mean for them, but more than anything she wants his happiness. According to her clanmates, this does not a good Dominant make - and standing so short, being so timid, being so bad at knowing what others want… 

For years, Marethari had pressured her into presenting herself as a sub and finding a partner to submit to. For a while, she did. She played with people from other clans that they ran into, kneeling and letting them flog or gag her. After too long of this, she grew ill from her unhappiness, falling into a near-feverish, nervous state. Falling into self-destruction. Falling into depression.

Marethari - and the rest of her clan - were forced to admit that Merrill is not submissive. Still, she can't imagine a submissive ever wanting her.

Oh, but that was taken care of, wasn't it? They take things like that into account when making a match. Even the Dalish's northern sister clans, the island-bound Fog Warriors, make these accommodations when pairing (or- what is it called again, when it's a group?) a Dominant and a submissive.

Maybe he'll like that she's softer. Maybe, for once, she'll have someone in their clan that can stomach her for more than ten minutes at a time other than Tamlen and Mahariel.

_ Not that he'll have much choice _ , she thinks wryly. A clan's pairing is almost always final. But there have been those that go against tradition, she remembers. And the Fog Warriors are very different from the Dalish, aren't they?

"He's ready for you, Merrill."

Merrill jumps nearly out of her skin, turning to face her Keeper. Of course. Yes. He's ready. He is waiting outside for her. He's standing just outside the tent, likely not even five yards away. All she needs to do is walk out to greet him.

Merrill doesn't budge.

She swallows hard and clenches her jaw. This man has come all this way to meet her, all this way to be hers… What if he's disappointed? What if he's repulsed by her? What if he spends not an hour with her before leaving? What if Merrill is one of so few Dominants whose submissives deny tradition to leave them?

Already, she's a freak among her clan. She's not sure she could handle another blow like that. She can't handle a rejection this severe.

"Merrill?"

Right. He's waiting. He's outside, standing with the clanmates who accompanied him from Seheron, waiting for his Dominant. Waiting for her.

Merrill relaxes her jaw and takes a deep breath.

"Yes, Keeper. I'm coming."

It's an odd tradition, Merrill always thought. A submissive will prepare themselves as the Dominant waits. They'll stand outside in a circle, surrounded by those of the clan that see fit to be there. When Merrill walks outside the tent, her clanmates are there, though only so few of them, standing around them like a half-started fence. Mahariel and Tamlen are there, tightly holding the other's hand, as well as a few unfamiliar faces that make up the majority of the circle. They must be her submissive's clanmates.

And he's in the middle.

He's tall - so tall he can likely see over every head around them, easily two heads taller than herself. And he's  _ handsome _ .

His hair is a shock of white, glistening even under the grey clouds that have taken the sky. It's long, nearly to his shoulders, and has obviously just been groomed to the point of obsession. Other than this brilliant shock of white, his dark and severe brows, and his long lashes, he seems to have no other hair on his body. His nude, completely bare, naked body.

Instead, he is covered in tattoos. They stretch from his chin all the way down his body, branching and swirling across his lean muscle. They're white like his hair and equally beautiful. Her own vallaslin was on her face and shoulders only and they had  _ hurt _ . She can't imagine the pain he must have weathered to cover his entire body like this.

She almost wants to ask him to turn around, just to see if he has them on his back, too. Instead, she opens her mouth to say something else.

"I thought Fog Warriors didn't have vallaslin?" she asks him. The first thing she's ever said to him. The first words she, as his Dominant, has ever spoken to her submissive.  _ Stupid stupid stupid- _

He gives a small, surprised chuckle, barely two breaths of a laugh. The sound is rich and deep. It shocks her. "We do not. These are… unrelated to Dalish custom. Mostly."

She has always been a bookish type, inquisitive to the point of contention. It's hard not to be, trained to be the Keeper, distanced from her clan and pushed towards old and new writings alike. She should stop, tell him he's pretty,  _ tell him her name, _ but her nature gets the better of her and she asks again, "Mostly? How so?"

"They are lyrium, tattooed brands etched into my skin by a mad Magister in his quest for power. I believe they were designed after vallaslin, however."

Yes, they must be. In the gentle curls, Merrill can see something similar to the markings of June. And she can feel the horror on her own face in what these markings mean, in how much they must haunt his soul just as they haunt his skin. She brings a hand up without thinking, a hair away from touching him.

"They're beautiful…" Has she ever heard herself sound so sad? "He didn't deserve to do this to you."

He gives her a strange look, cocking his head to the side. "No," he agrees. "He didn't."

The anxiety returns full force. "Um. Sorry. I didn't mean to- I haven't even introduced myself."

Distantly, she hears a badly hidden laugh. Someone hiding their amusement behind a cough, snorting into their hand. Shame makes her face feel red hot and awful.

"Sorry- Again. I'm Merrill. It's lovely to finally meet you. I've been anxiously awaiting your arrival."

He raises his eyebrows. "I have anxiously been waiting to arrive. You are… not what I expected."

Another laugh. It causes a small divet between her submissive's eyebrows, a twitch in his ear, but he doesn't look away. He has her pinned with his pretty green eyes. Despite her inability to stop looking at the ground in her tent, she can't seem to look anywhere but him now. She'll get a crick in her neck staring up at him so often, she thinks. The image of him kneeling instead rises unbidden in her mind and she blushes.

"In a good way," he murmurs, suddenly sounding as nervous as she feels. "I don't mean to say..."

But Merrill smiles. He hasn't left yet. He hasn't spat in her face and demanded another pairing. "I'm glad. Um. May I ask your name? They didn't tell me as much about you as I might have liked, you see."

"I…" He looks even more surprised than before. "...thought you would choose one."

"You'd like me to name you?" It would be an honor, admittedly, but it wasn't something she'd expected.

"Not particularly." He shrugs. "But I am told it is custom."

"Occasionally," she admits. "But we Dalish are not so bound by tradition that I'd force a new name onto you."

Finally, he smiles. It's almost mischievous, small and crooked and slanting left. It excites her to see it. "Fenris, then."

"Fenris…"  _ Like the Dread Wolf _ , she doesn't say.  _ Fen'harel _ . It suits her perfectly, she thinks, being a pariah as she is. They really have been chosen to match. "I like it. My Fenris. Er- Not to make assumptions."

There's more laughter, more than one person this time, but it sounds much kinder than it did. It makes Fenris' smile grow a little softer. "Your Fenris. That  _ is _ why I have come here, after all. But, what should I call you?"

"Just Merrill, I suppose," She taps her chin thoughtfully. "We can discuss whatever else you might like to call me later. When we decide what we both want."

"That… sounds agreeable."

"Excellent." She takes a deep breath again, steadying. "Have they told you what is expected? About the, um, public ceremony?"

Some of the gentle light leaves his face. It makes her feel better about what she's about to say next. "Yes."

"Good. I've elected for us not to participate."

He blinks then. Once. Twice. "I'm… sorry?"

"It's traditional, but…"  _ My clan despises me. I didn't want to force you through that. _ "We've only just met and you're in all-new surroundings and… well, I'd like to communicate more of what you want first. And I'd like our first scene to be a little more private."

He stares at her for a few beats. "You-" Then he shakes his head and closes his eyes. "When you said you chose her specifically to my needs, Sulenalan, I did not imagine you meant…"

Only then does Merrill notice the small, dark figure behind him, their face caked in traditional white paint. They laugh, the sound fond and strong. "Only the best for our friendly warrior."

Fenris looks back and smirks. Despite the somewhat mean look on his face, the words he says next are quiet and tender. Qunlat, Merrill guesses. Her recent studies have told her they speak that up north and it sounds too different from Elvhen to be Tevene...

Sulenalan responds in kind, in the same tongue Merrill doesn't speak.

Then Fenris turns back to her, his smile crooked and oddly wolfish. Fitting for his name. "I must admit. I am excited to see what our union will be like."

"Me too."

Typically the circle would disperse after a public claiming or collaring, but given Merrill's insistence that she didn't want that, people simply start trickling away, until all that is left are Fenris' clanmates.

There's only two of them that remain; Sulenalan, the one from before, as well as a broad-shouldered woman.

After the claiming, the Dominant meets the submissive's closest loved ones and acting Dom. Seeing only two people here makes Merrill's heart ache.

But Fenris is smiling brightly, more comfortable now that it's just the four of them. "This is Sulenalan. They are my… acting Dominant, I suppose. They are a Switch and their Dominant remained at home to care for their children." Sulenalan bows their head submissively to her, smiling gently. "Our … leader, you could call him, Kanegan, was my main Dominant. He had to remain with the others as well."

Merrill nods, taking this all in. So Fenris does have loved ones - the trek is simply too far for them to say goodbye. That aches, too, and Merrill feels a sudden stab of guilt. She turns to the broad-shouldered woman, whose face is stern and whose eyes are wild. "And who is this?"

"Athesia," Fenris replies, grinning. "A Dominant. And my dearest companion."

Athesia pushes Fenris' shoulder and he pushes back. They glare playfully before Athesia turns to look at Merrill.

"Sulen chose you. If it were my choice, Fenris would stay with us."

"But it is not your choice." Fenris interrupts. "It is mine."

Athesia raises an eyebrow, then turns his gaze back to Merrill. "Our people will remain here for five days, longer if necessary. If Fenris decides he doesn't wish to remain, then he will return home with us."

Of course. Merrill feels her hands begin to shake again and nods. "I wouldn't dream of keeping him here against his will. Whatever choice Fenris makes, I will support him."

When she turns to him, she sees Fenris giving her that face again, eyes searching and face open with something that says she's pleased him. 

Sulenalan smiles at her again, placing a gentle hand on Athesia's shoulder. "Don't mind her. We're all a bit protective of our friend."

"Not that we need to be. Fenris can cut his way through you if he needs to."

Merrill's eyes grow wide at the same time Fenris snaps, "Athesia!"

Athesia sighs, but seems unapologetic. "Fenris is our greatest warrior. Without him, our people will be weaker against the Tevinter threat."

Now, Fenris glares at his friend. But he looks just as guilty as Merrill feels.

"Your people…" Merrill fights to remember what she's read of the Fog Warriors. "You're at war with Tevinter and the Qunari, aren't you?"

"Not in so many words," Fenris murmurs. "Seheron is our land. The Qun wants it, but they respect us well enough to leave us be, focusing on the Tevinter forces. Tevinter, however, wants the land as part of the Imperium, and will stop at nothing to kill and enslave our people, as well as the Qunari forces."

"In short - Tevinter is at war with the Qunari and our people are stuck in the middle."

Merrill takes this in, nodding. "I understand if you'd prefer to stay with your clan, Fenris. It won't offend me."

If Athesia emotes, Merrill doesn't see it. She's busy watching Fenris' face thaw like spring, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

The conversation ends quickly after that, Sulenalan quick to excuse themself and Athesia. Now, Merrill and Fenris are free to spend time alone. Part of her wants to see her own loved ones, but Fenris already met Mahariel and Tamlen when he arrived and she was stuck in her tent, shaking like a leaf.

The tent stands so close, but Merrill finds herself too nervous to invite Fenris inside yet. Despite the large size, there isn't much inside, beyond her bed things and a few books; everything else is in the aravel parked beside the tent, locked carefully away. She'd have nothing to offer him, nothing to gift him. She's not even sure she can hold his hand yet without combusting.

"Would you like to join me for a walk, Fenris?"

He gives her a brief, calculating look, but then nods.

She takes in his nude state thoughtfully, then bashfully. "Um. I'll get you a cloak, since we'll be a little while from camp." It wouldn't do to have him scratched up by brambles his first day.

"I would be grateful."

They've been in this location for a while now, keeping the clan in one place so all the people traveling to them could find them. It's been long enough that Merrill already knows the woods as well as she knows her books. She leads Fenris through the bright green of the brush, careful not to lose him. He seems well-acquainted with the terrain, if not the area, and she remembers that Seheron is largely jungle.

"Are there cats?"

"...Hm?"

"In Seheron. I hear there's cats in the jungle, only they're very large. Is that true?"

When she looks back, Fenris smiles. "Yes. They are not quite as dangerous as many would imagine, however. They have other prey that they prefer. Tamlen asked me the same thing."

Of course he did. Merrill huffs a laugh. "Are they like bears then? You avoid them and they avoid you?"

"Something like that," Fenris agrees. "Though jungle cats are predators in a way bears are not, so the attacks are a bit more frequent."

"Hard to hide the food when you are the food."

"Exactly. They simply prefer other meals - but all men must eat when they are starving. Even I will eat fish when it's all there is."

"You don't like fish?" She finds it inordinately cute.

"Not particularly."

There's a lull in the conversation, a brief moment where neither says anything, and Merrill feels it like a pause of her heart beating.

So, she says what she's thinking. It's impulsive, but so is the suggestion.

"You know, Fenris… If you're needed in Seheron, I'm happy to accompany you."

"I am grateful for the offer, but I would need to remain longer than a visit to make a difference." He looks at her teasingly. "Unless you simply want to see the panthers in person?"

"Oh, it's not that. I mean, I do want to see them. Not that that's why I'm saying- Sorry. What I'm suggesting is … we stay there instead of here. We stay in Seheron."

Stopping abruptly, Fenris looks at her, shocked. "Are you not to be your clan's leader?"

She turns to face him. "My clan… does not accept me," she admits. Despite herself, her voice wavers around the words. "And as is, Mahariel is a better Second than I am a First. She'd make a perfect Keeper."

Fenris blinks. Then again, just like earlier. "You are not what I expected, Merrill." His voice grows hushed, suddenly. "I can't ask you to stay there. Although it is my home, it is… war-torn. And my people are very different than yours."

She thinks for a moment. "Would you be happier there?"

"I-" He seems surprised by the firmness in her voice. "Yes."

"And if I asked to accompany you, would you deny me? Would you want me to stay here?"

"Your people-"

"My submissive. Would he want me to stay here."

Fenris stares at her thoughtfully. "No. I think I'd like to be with you. You are unlike many Dominants I have met. Even Kanegan…"

He trails off, so she says, "I can tell the Keeper I'd like to go with you. If that's what  _ you _ want, Fenris."

Finally breaking eye contact, Fenris stares intently at the ground, deep in thought. "May I… give you my answer at the end of the five days? I have much I must consider."

Something inside of her relaxes. "Of course."

"I apologize," he says, and he truly sounds sorry. "I didn't mean to cause so much strife. I… really believed I could move on."

"Oh, don't sound so sullen!" She reaches out and touches him, his arm warm and lovely beneath her hand. "You've still come here. This is still moving on, even if you go to Seheron without me and find your Dominant in the future."

At that, Fenris smiles, pulling his cloak closer around himself. "Thank you."

"You never need to thank me for the truth, Fenris."

Fenris' smile only grows wider. He stares at the ground almost bashfully, pressing his toes into the dirt beneath them.

The sight is adorable. Merrill stares and smiles along with him. "Um. Would you like to keep walking?"

Fenris nods. "I also have a question for you."

"Oh! That's only fair, given how many I've asked you. What is it?"

"You…" He seems to struggle for a moment, following as she slowly begins walking again. "Why didn't you leave instructions for what I ought to wear?"

"Well, I wanted to see what you would choose to wear. I, um. Was surprised to see you not wearing anything at all." Her face grows suddenly hot. "Not in a bad way! It was really rather striking. Was that the intended effect?"

Fenris laughs, a small, shy chuckle. "That was part of it. A moment of defiance before I became yours, just in case you were what I had feared you'd be. I also… prefer nudity."

"It's a good look on you," she chances. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"Thank you. In Tevinter, I was dressed like a doll, whether in ornate armor or frivolous lace. There was often an offensive amount of jewelry. I hated it."

"I am… so sorry."

"No need. I am free now." She looks back and he smiles. "I am yours."

She smiles back. "You can wear whatever you like with me. I want you comfortable before anything else."

Another lull passes as she leads them around the outskirts of the camp. This time, it seems to come from Fenris; he gives off a sudden nervous energy, like he's waiting for something.

"Are you alright, Fenris?"

"...Yes. I apologize."

"No need! I forgive you."

She meant it as a joke, but he doesn't laugh. Instead he takes an audible deep breath. "Merrill, what sort of Dom are you?"

"Um."  _ An awful one. _ "How do you mean?"

"What will you expect from me, if this continues past our five days?"

"Honesty, mostly. To tell me when you're happy and when you aren't. To tell me when you need me and what you need of me."

Fenris is quiet for a beat. "...Is that all?"

"Well… Yes, I suppose. I'd ask you to treat me kindly, too, but, um, that tends to go without saying, I hope."

"Perhaps I asked the wrong question," Fenris concedes. "Merrill, what do you  _ want _ from a submissive? What sort of things do you want to do with me?" Then, " _ To _ me?"

Merrill's face grows warm. "Oh! I- Of course. You would want to know that, wouldn't you? I'm silly…" She must be as red as an apple by now, the way her cheeks are burning. "I'm rambling again. It's just that, I'm not entirely certain I can give a complete answer."

"Please try."

"Of course." She breathes for a moment, then swallows. "I… want to treat you lovingly. Pamper you like a child pampers a pet fennec. Not to say there are no-  _ violent _ impulses. I'm sure your bum would look cute bruised- I mean to say-"

"Merrill. It's alright."

She doesn't realize he's stopped until his hand grabs her arm and stops her too.

"It's  _ alright _ . I want you to hit me, too."

"You do?" She looks back at him in surprise. "Even after…?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

Merrill pulls her arm out of his grasp only long enough to grab his hand and hold it. "I hate the idea of forcing you. I don't want my desires to influence your actions."

"Very noble." Fenris chuckles. "But I want your desires to influence my actions. I want to submit to you."

"I see." Her face feels like it's on fire. "In that case, you're very handsome and I'd like to paddle your bottom and feed you sweets, please. Maybe tie you up with something soft and do some overstimulation things. That could be fun."

She relaxes to see that Fenris is smiling. He doesn't pull his hand away, or sneer, or call her cruel names out of the Keeper's earshot. "That does sound fun."

"I'm glad," she says honestly.

"Me too."

And then he leans forward to kiss her, just once, so chaste it's almost polite, but it's perfect. For the first time in a long time, Merrill feels that everything is going to turn out for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
